The Earring On The Pillow
by chemicalflashes
Summary: He knew they could never be what they were in the glowing daylight, only in the faint moonlight. [AU; ONESHOT; [DM/HG]; EWE; PWP; POST-WAR; WARNINGS INSIDE]


**The Earring On The Pillow**

_**by grey chemistry**_

Warnings– AU [Voldemort has won, Harry is dead] Mature themes, explicit sexual situations, faint mentions of rape

Written for the _Four Elements Challenge by Dragon MoonX_

_Element– Air_

Prompts:- Category 1– Mental Stability

Category 2– Silver Jewellery, Sunrise, Aura

[the prompts have been underlined]

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He didn't understand what she was doing to him. It was extremely confusing. It wasn't 'shag and forget' anymore, not since last night at least.

He glanced at the empty space beside him and sighed quietly. She was never near him when the golden rays of the sunrise touched the wooden floorboards of his room. He absence in the mornings was one of the reasons he hated sunrise. He opened his eyes weakly and fumbled around in the sheets when suddenly his right hand rounded upon a very small article lying very innocently on the pillow. It was a single piece of silver jewellery– a silver earring. And that's when memories of the previous night came crashing around him like a tropical summer storm.

Every night she came up to his room and as everything became more and more still with each passing moment, they made love like long lost lovers in the faint moonlight streaming in from the french windows. Sometimes they expressed their fiery passion by the wall, other times on the floor or even in the slippery bathroom tub. But never-ever did they do it in the silks of his huge bed. It had been a necessary precaution because according to both of them, making love on a bed, specifically his bed, signified a sort of bond, an emotional connection. And they had wanted anything but that disaster.

It was simply because they couldn't afford one; not without risking their lives because he was a death-eater, the heir of the Malfoy fortune while she was an ex-member of the Order, a mere slave in his household who had been used and abused in every single way possible.

But last night have been different. This time she had been crying, and seeing her there, by the entrance of his room he could just feel the sheer need to protect her. He vulnerable and broken aura and her beautiful but sad, grief-ridden chocolate eyes had given him enough resolve to sweep her right off her nimble feet and deposit on his plushy bed daintily. She had looked at him with wide eyes, silently asking him, 'Are you sure?'

He had been more than sure.

He cupped her face, kissed her forehead and then proceeded to wipe away her numerous tears.

"What happened?" he had asked.

"He...he– overpowered me again...and– and..." Fresh tears had appeared all over again on her rosy cheeks. He had felt very angry.

"Ssshh... Don't cry. Everything will be fine one day."

She had wanted to say 'Will that day ever come?' but before she could have uttered a single syllable, he had silenced her with a kiss. While he had been kissing her, his mind had been coming up with numerous plans to murder a brutal wizard by the name of Rabastan Lestrange. "Wait a sec." he had said as he had broken their fierce battle of tongues and gotten up to retrieve something from the depths of his semi-dark room. He had come back with an old, small, velvety box like the ones which are used to store precious jewellery pieces. He had put it between them as he had sat in front of her, cross-legged.

"What's that?"

"It's for you. Go on, open it." he had said gently and nudged her on the elbow.

She had forced back the lid with a firm push to find small silver earrings in it. They were simple– just bands of silver engraved upon with flowery patterns and a clasp to attach. But they had been more than enough to force her to give out a squeal of pure joy in the silence of the night. "They're beautiful!" she had breathed. He had just smiled back in response. "Are they really for me?" Her voice had a hesitant and shy touch to it. "They were my mother's. But now I've given them to you. So, yes" He had nodded.

"Oh! Thank you so much!"

Just for a minutely small moment he could've sworn that he had seen a long lost happy shine in her eyes. And seeing that had made him all happy and fluttery inside like a schoolboy who just had his first kiss. Those newfound feelings were driving him mad; challenging his mental stability– not that there was much of it in the first place. But before he had any chance to check upon himself or go through the innermost ramblings of his mind, she had caught his lips with her own warm, soft ones and everything had flown out. Then they had proclaimed each other's bodies in a mad heat, like they did each night, only this time it was in his bed.

He was sitting now, watching the creases she had made in the presently empty space beside him. He fingered the old earring. It must have dropped when she had been whipping wildly as she had lowered her dripping pussy on him from top. Her small but round breasts had been bouncing and he had reached out to cup them. It had been like silk encased in sandpaper. She had moaned loudly at his skillful ministrations. He grinned at the explicit memory and the physical sensations that came by just remembering it. But then he saw the bright sunlight and remembered the time. He lazily got up to get ready and go down even though he didn't want to do that at all. But didn't have a choice in the matter, so he quickly fixed his appearance and pocketed the earring.

When he got downstairs, breakfast was being served. His cruel and definitely mad Aunt Bellatrix was helping herself to quite large quantities of food as she rambled on about greatness of the Dark Lord simultaneously. Rabastan Leastrange, who was even more loathsome than his aunt was also shoving food down his thick throat. He felt and indescribable amount fury boiling in him as he saw the man and he had a very strong urge to give him the Killing Curse right there, right then. But of course he couldn't do anything right then. It wasn't like he was on a mission with him where he could have blamed his death on some unidentified Rebel Alliance member.

He groaned very quietly in frustration though his mother, who was sitting beside him had noticed it. She looked at him with questioning glances. He quickly looked away; his mother was very good at catching lies even without Veritaserum and he didn't want her knowing that he was making love to their mudblood slave, Hermione Granger every night for the past four months any time soon. It was then that he saw her. She looked enchanting, even with her torn slave clothes. Her post-orgasm bliss still shone on her face. Her eyes were sparkling, mischievous as she brought the fresh bread basket to him. As she laid his meal in front of him, he quickly slipped the earring in her left pocket.

She looked at him knowingly before moving on quickly. Their moment had been broken. He knew they could never be what they were in the glowing daylight, only in the faint moonlight.

That's what they were deemed to be forever. The master and the slave by the day and tender lovers in the night.

And the worst part was that it hurt, quite badly.

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**Hello lovelies! I am quite happy at the way this turned out and I hope that the story wasn't half bad. And I repeat that this is a oneshot, though I might write a multi-chap on the same theme in the near future. Though that would be in a separate entry.**

**And by the way, please review! [Draco would like that. ; )]**


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